Revelations
by Mayme
Summary: A series of one shots following each character's thoughts about their lives up to this point. No spoilers really, but it's best if you've seen through season four. Although not graphic, these fics can be dark at times. Hence the rating.
1. Sara

Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to CSI or it's affiliates. I am merely a fan whose would like to take already established characters into a story of my own rendering.

Revelations: Sara

As she sat by the toilet, vomit falling down her chin, Sara felt as if the world had left her to die. Surely no one cared or they would be here now holding back her hair while she emptied herself of her drunken woes.

Grissom didn't care. If he did, he never showed beyond mild flirtation. He only left her with enough to satisfy her until she need another fix. She was a junkie to his love and he was her dealer.

Catherine didn't care. She saw her only as the annoying little sister who always wanted her way and nothing else would do. They could have helped each other. She could have been there when each lover left her high and dry and Catherine could have been there when Grissom cut the line each time he reeled her in.

Warrick was never there. They could have been closer, but she supposed that they were both too closed off for that. They had an understanding. It was true friendship yes, but there was the understanding that some things were just too personal. They just left it at that.

Greg was so young. He'd try to help, but the poor thing was just starting to come face to face with the realities of life via death. He hadn't been ready to face death, let alone investigate it. No, he needed her as support. He couldn't help her. His innocence wouldn't allow him to comprehend the help she needed.

Nick understood her. But that was it. Nothing past mild flirtation had ever occurred between them. She was happy for his promotion. He deserved it. She was a good CSI with a true heart for the victims and families. And all this without letting it interfere with his job. But he was blind. She needed a friend. He could have been that friend too, but he didn't see her. Just like Grissom.

Cleaning herself off with toilet paper and flushing it away, she stood up and washed her face. She started into the mirror, looking at the image before her.

God.

There she was, the genius Sara Sidle. Pale with red cheeks. Hungover. After several rounds with whatever she'd had in her cabinets, she'd lost. Again. Lucky for her she was home and not driving. She couldn't bear the faces and rumors again. Grissom's gentle hand intertwined with hers. He took her home and left. They always leave.

Making her way into the living room, Sara glanced at the clock. It was almost time for shift to began. She had only an hour and a half to get sober and ready. But the look of her living room set her into a fury. It looked like a drunken crime scene.

Just how much had she drank?

It didn't matter. She was angry. At herself. At her friends. At her lies. Everything.

As if possessed, Sara went on a rampage, cleaning the room of any trace of alcohol. The few bottles she'd managed not to finished were drained of their contents down the kitchen sink and thrown away in the trash. Never again. She was better than this.

After finishing the much needed cleaning, she readied herself for work and walked back into the now tidy living room to gather her keys. Remembering that she had thrown them on the floor, she got on her hands and knees in search of them.

Making her way to the couch, she pulled up the flaps and searched under the couch for the missing keys. She found them. A a half empty bottle of rum.

Rum.

It was her father's favorite drink. He would walk around the house with a bottle. He'd take a large swig, carefully place the bottle on the coffee table, then hit her mother until she couldn't stand up. Sara's brother would try to shield his little sister from the sights and sounds of a drunken rage, but he could only do so much.

She understood why her mother killer her father. Yes it hurt to be separated her her and her brother, only to be thrown into the foster system. But she understood.

But what had she become? No better than her father, that's what. Holding the bottle, she clenched it tight, then with all the pent up rage of the past thirty-four years, she thrust the bottle towards the door where it shattered it a spray of glass and booze.

She would not become her father.

Resolute, she took her keys and walked out the door to a new day at work. To embrace her friends. He career. Her life. Sober.

End


	2. Catherine

Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to CSI or it's affiliates. I am merely a fan whose would like to take already established characters into a story of my own rendering.

Revelations: Catherine

Watching her daughter sleep, Catherine did all she could do to keep the tears from flowing. It was bad enough for Lindsey to have been a statistic. Just another kid of divorced parents.

But what made it worse was that her father was now dead.

Her mother was never home.

_She must feel like an orphan. _Catherine thought. Moving slowly and quietly, she kissed her daughter on the forehead and moved towards the door of the bedroom. Turning around one last time to gaze at her child, she couldn't help but wonder if Lindsey would understand someday.

Catherine closed the door behind her, said goodnight to her mother, then slumped into her SUV to head to work. Again. Possibly to pull another double.

Since she's moved to the swing shift, Catherine had had just enough time to pick Lindsey up from school, give her a snack, and maybe help with a little homework before she had to go to work. Plus, if she didn't have to work overtime, she was able to take her to school as well. But the latter rarely happened. Her climb to the top had cost her dearly.

She just hoped Lindsey would understand.

It was easy for everyone else. They didn't have kids or spouses or other family to take care of. Grissom's mother still lived in California. Besides, the man was so emotionally detached that it was no wonder he wasn't married. Although Catherine knew that Gil's heart was avaliable, he wouldn't part with it without knowing he could have everything he wanted. Job first, love second. Someone specialy would have to come along to understand. Someone had, but he wasn't sure he could balance. Poor fool.

Warrick's love of gambling had left him empty since he'd quit. And although he was a native of Las Vegas, most of his family had either moved away or had died. He did have friends and all the kids loved and respected him. He would make a good father. But he needed closure in his life first. Although Catherine couldn't pinpoint what it was, she knew something was holding the man back. She could help him.

After she helped herself.

Nick was a sweetheart with a love of life, women, and peace of mind. He was, perhaps, the most normal of all her coworkers. She was grateful to have been able to get him on the swing shift with herself and Warrick. But he lacked discipline and composure and often let the victim's families get in the way of being inpartial and only letting the evidence speak for itself. He would probably be the best of them all one day of he could master his emotions.

Sara was an enigma unto herself. So full of secrets and unwilling to let people get too close to her. Catherine had wanted to be a sister to her. But every time they get close, Sara pushes her away. She pushes everyone away. _Something won't allow her to get close to anyone. If only she'd tell me. We have more in common than she realizes. _She was a genius, but was so emotional one minute and another so detached. Her balance would make her a rival to Nick. And could possibly get Ecklie off her back.

Greg. Poor Greg. Grissom should have never let him in the field so soon. He just wasn't ready and the others on his team had to pick up the slack. He was a genius in the lab, but a lost puppy elsewhere. Lost puppy following Sara. Grissom would be jealous if he felt the kid was a threat. Catherine's only wish for Greg was that he would never lose himself as he because the great CSI that potential showed he could be.

Catherine pulled up to the lab with the feeling that tonight was going to be rough. Some would think that stripping was dangerous and unfeeling. Sometimes she longed for a hit. Just to take off the edge. She and Eddie had some great times and great sex while sniffing that little white powder. It was relaxing and invigorating. But not safe. Especially with Lindsey around. Catherine went to school and bettered herself. Eddie couldn't resist the fast life.

They divorced. Catherine had hoped that Lindsey would slow him down, but Eddie wasn't one to do anything for anyone unless it benefited himself in some way. His wild ways cost him everything, including his life. Not to mention he had almost taken Lindsey down with him. God, what would she have done if her baby had died that day? Catherine shuddered just thinking about it.

She couldn't trust anyone in her life. Except Lindsey. Not even Sam, whom she now knew also as Dad. He'd lied to her most of her life and it had taken her nearly losing her job with a DNA test to find the truth. But it was a bittersweet reward and she now had an even more powerful link to move up in the world.

No. Lindsey was alright. She was a good mom. She just made a few mistakes. A lot of mistakes. But her life as a supervisor was just the beginning of something good for her small family. She knew the game of politics thanks to Sam. Although few people knew about their true relationship, she would never use that connection to move her forward, even if the whole city knew. It didn't matter.

She would go as far as she wanted as long as it benefited her career and her family. All she needed was a good man at her side to be a partner and father. Then she'd have it all.

She just hoped Lindsey would understand.

End


	3. Nick

Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to CSI or it's affiliates. I am merely a fan whose would like to take already established characters into a story of my own rendering.

Revelations: Nick

Walking out of the prison, Nick felt cold. Even the scorching Nevada heat couldn't help cover the goosebumps. He had met the accomplice. He couldn't prove it, but the accomplice of his kidnapper and attempted murderer would be getting out of jail in just a few years.

He grew colder.

Thinking that seeing the daughter of the man who tried to kill him would help ease his pain and fears, but they only increased. She didn't help them. She didn't care if he lived or died. She blamed him for her being in jail. Everyone. All the CSIs were to blame for her loss of freedom and her father had tried to avenge her.

She thought he failed. He hadn't.

Nick felt dead inside. Cold as death. His life was forever changed because of a madman and his daughter. Two madmen to be exact. He'd forgotten about Nigel, his stalker. He too had tried to kill him. Why was he the one whop attracted all the psychos?

Hopping into his Tahoe, he slammed his head against the wheel, causing the horn to blow. He jumped back and sat upright in his seat and was still for several moments, grateful that no one seemed to notice his actions. Finally satisfied with his emotions calming themselves once more, he started the engine and steered the SUV out of the prison parking lot and onto the main highway, heading back to Sin City.

He still felt cold, just not on the outside. He felt cold inside, as if his heart was freezing over. When he's been promoted to a CSI III, he was just a happy-go-lucky cowboy, looking for a good woman to have a good time with. Now he could hardly find a true emotion. While in the coffin, he lost all emotion as he picked up the gun and positioned it under his chin. He wanted to pull the trigger. He needed to pull the trigger. One squeeze would have ended his pain. But then the light came on. He shifted what was left of his humanity towards the light and as it shattered, so did his soul.

He was so lost.

What happened to the happy Nick. The one who could innocently flirt with Sara and Catherine, talk video games with Greg, go for a drink with Warrick and Brass, and do everything in his power to please Grissom. Was he really happy then? It seemed he was just blending in. He allowed his feeling to get in the way of his job, always sympathetic to the families, looking for justice. He didn't care about the promotion, but he'd gotten it anyway, despite of himself. Sara had deserved it.

Why did Grissom promote him? Was it because of the fact that he didn't want to play favorites with Sara? He knew there was something that had happened in the past with them, and somehow has never played itself out completely. But he hoped that hadn't been the reason for his promotion. He should have earned the promotion, not given it because some middle-aged guy with a suffering libido for his employee felt that he'd would be playing favorites to give it to her. Damn Sara! Damn Grissom.

Damn Nick.

How could he think of them like that, They've done nothing wrong. He missed them. Since working with Catherine and Warrick on the swing shift, he never saw them. He wasn't there when they needed his help. He wasn't there for Sara when she was attacked at the mental hospital. They'd always been there for each other. Like a brother and sister.

Some brother he was. Some friend...

Warrick was there for him. But Nick hadn' t been there for Warrick. When his gambling problem escalated out of control, he hadn't been there for him. He'd hardly even noticed, except that he wasn't at the casinos as much.

Some friend he was.

He didn't even know how to help Catherine. It's not that he didn't want to but he wasn't a dad so he couldn't really understand how she dealt with Lindsey, especially with Eddie gone. He could help her when she went looking for solicitude in the wrong places. She almost assaulted outside of a nightclub and he did nothing. She was his boss and he didn't help her.

Some employee he was.

Poor Greg was becoming like him. A vibrant, happy, carefree young man was becoming a dark, quiet, focused on his job kind of man. He could help Greg. He was just like him in that respect. But how can you help someone if you can't even help yourself. Greg looked up to him like a mentor.

Some mentor.

Mentor. Grissom. He was a man who had earned Nick's respect day one. He wanted to be just like him. Objective and professional. Now he was like an extreme Grissom. No emotion. At least Grissom cared and helped his team. Nick didn't do anything. Grissom had almost died to save Nick's life. What had he done to earn that kind of sacrifice? What did Grissom think of his protege now?

Some protege.

It was too much for Nick to handle. He pulled on the side of the road and slammed on the breaks. He got out of the vehicle and vomited on the side of the road. Not trusting himself yet, he sat on the ground, back leaning against the tire of the SUV, causing a fight between his icy skin and hot metal. Even his stomach was disgusted with him. His own body hated him. He hated himself. The people he regarded most in the world had saved his life and what had he done for them? Nothing. He didn't deserved to be saved. They should have let him die there in that plexiglass coffin. Feeling his stomach betray him again, Nick emptied himself of whatever else was left in him, and sat back. He could no longer contain the tears and didn't bother to stop them as the flowed down his face, hitting the dirt near his feet.

It wasn't too late to get back to who he was. He could be the old Nick again. No, a better, wiser Nick. A Nick who could be counted on to be a friend. Always there to help. He would let the ghosts of his past consume him any longer.

Standing up, he dried his tears, pulled out his cell phone and decided to make good on his word. He picked a number from his phone book as he got back in the driver's seat. "Sara? Hey, it's Nick. I'm good. I'm coming back to work tomorrow. Listen, I've been meaning to ask how you're doing..."

End


	4. Greg

Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to CSI or it's affiliates. I am merely a fan whose would like to take already established characters into a story of my own rendering.

Revelations: Greg

It was a day off. Nothing special. Just a day to rest and prepare for whatever might come his way the next shift. A day to do nothing, eat everything, sleep whenever, and catch up with friends.

After officially being a CSI for just over a year, Greg Sanders looked at himself in the mirror. Standing in his bathroom after taking a long, hot shower, just letting the water hit his face, Greg started wondering about it.

His face.

He got out of the shower and dried himself off. Putting on the boxers and jeans he brought with him into the bathroom, he now stood before the mirror, just looking.

It was amazing what a little over a year can do to a person. He used to be wild with spikey hair that was at least three different colors with shirts to match. Now it was not uncommon for Greg to show up to a crime scene wearing a sportsjacket, something he'd only previously worn to weddings or funerals.

Now he was a professional. His hair had lost at least one of it's colors and sometimes could be found to be all the same. He'd even tamed it quite a bit. Lately, as if they were just noticing, Greg started getting comments about his new look. Most were meant to be kind, such as _Looking professional _or _Wow, Greg. I didn't know your hair could do that._ They were meant to be well-meaning, and in the moment he would often take them as such.

But now, looking in the mirror, he remembered Sophia._ Don't lose yourself. _At first, he didn't get it. Placing his hands on the counter, Greg looked up at the once young and wild lab tech and saw a young CSI. Just still young, not really wild.

Greg sighed and sat down on the toliet, resting his arms on his legs, his head bowed towards the floor. He knew that even when he went out with his friends at night, he'd lost that innocence that had once been part of his charm.

Before, he'd only processed bits and pieces of a crime, never seeing the photos or families of the dead. Now, it was his job to prod a corpse to find clues as to why it was there, then go probe the family whose only desire was to mourn.

Somewhere in the past year, he'd lost his innocence. Like virginity, it can never be brought back. It can only be forgotten as the person moves on. You can run or hide or pretend it's still there. It's gone.

Unlike his virginity, however, Greg can't point out a date or a time when he lost his innocence. He just did. Gradually, all at once, he was never sure. But it was gone. Now he was just like all the others. Jaded. Unfazed by the castrophic events he watched on TV. He couldn't find pity for just the families now. He also felt for the CSIs, the fireman, the police, the emergency medical professionals who were first on the scene to sort things out.

They were the heros of the day.

Greg stood up at walked back to the mirror. He didn't feel like a hero today. He just felt cold and empty.

_No sense staying in the bathroom all day. Maybe I'll just sleep. No telling what was going to happen tomorrow._ Greg though as he looked once more at his reflection. He felt no pity for himself. Instead, he just walked out the door towards his bedroom and plopped on his bed. Not bothering to cover himself up, Greg found his pillow and started to drift to sleep.

That is, until his cell phone rang. Looking over the bed to the floor where the phone fell from the vibrations, he read the name on the caller id. Grissom.

Figures.

He picked up the singing phone and laid on his back. "Sanders." His voice sounded older and a bit gruffer lately.

"Greg, I know it's your day off but we need you. Family's been murdered in Seven Hills and it's going to take all hands on this one. How soon can you make it here?" Grissom always got straight to the point.

"Twenty minutes." Greg replied as he wiped his free hand over his face.

"OK, see you then." The call ended.

Tumbling out of bed, Greg looked in his closet for a shirt to match his jeans. Finding a pale blue button up, he put it on and got into his favorite leather shoes. Gathering up the rest of his things: cell phone, wallet, keys, police id, he started for the door.

As he passed the bathroom, he shot in for a moment and looked at himself a last time. He was missing something. Rushing out of the room and back to his bedroom, he returned quickly with his sportsjacket on. Looking at his form in the mirror he smiled and winked at himself. "Yeah, I still got it."

With that, he walked out of the bathroom and out of his apartment.


End file.
